After Everything
by brakefeld
Summary: Before the war, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy became 'almost-friends.' After the war, their lives lead them to different places. But then Draco shows up at the Ministry for Auror training, and they find themselves no longer knowing where they stand with each other.
1. Draco

The war was over. Good had prevailed over evil. But the cost was great.

Draco thought about looking for his parents, but had found himself standing in the desolation of the barren battlefield. Well, desolate toward life, for he stood amongst bodies. People who had once been alive, with dreams, ambitions, families, friends, lovers…he looked down at the grounds, realizing he had just stepped in a small puddle of blood. Disgusted, he lifted up his shoe and glared at the blood now covering his shoe soles, as if the blood would evaporate off it. Nonetheless, the blood was still there. A trickle dripped off the side of his shoe and he became suddenly engrossed in it. More specifically its colour.

The blond wizard realized that he had no way of telling who's blood he had just stepped in. All his life he had been taught-and had believed, _actually believed_-that he was above others just because of the 'status' of his blood. He scoffed at how naiive he had been. The deep red looked the same, whether it had come from a pure-blood, half-blood, even a muggle born. _So why did it even matter in the first place?_ That's when the realization dawned on him. _It didn't. Never had. Not really._

Suddenly his thoughts were brought back to another time. When he had watched as muggle born blood had been shed. To say that he had been surprised when Granger, Weasley and Potter were brought to his home, was a bit of an understatement. When he'd seen Granger, alive and well-well, alive at least-he'd wanted to cry out in joy. It was a weird thing. He hadn't seen her in quite a while. Didn't know what circumstances had led to the intelligent witch getting captured. But there was no doubt in his mind that the swollen-faced freak that she and Weasley had been accompanied by, was Potter.

But when he was forced to identify him, Malfoy had paused. Why had he hesitated? All he had to do was hand over The Boy Who Lived. Voldemort would be right over, they'd slaughter him and the reign of the death eaters would be secured.

Was it because the reign of death eaters wasn't what Draco had wanted, after all? Was it because Malfoy knew that sentencing Potter to death would be sentencing Granger to death, also? Not that she wasn't in danger at the moment, if her tortured screams later had anything to say in that. Was it because Draco looked at Harry and saw him for who he was? Not as Potter, the annoying Gryffindor, or The Boy Who Lived, or the best friend to Granger, or the Dark Lord's number one target; but Draco had seen Harry as _Harry._ A scared young boy who had been unwillingly tossed into a cruel world with a path already laid out for his life before he even had a chance to refuse it. Shoes to fill, a battle to be won.

The only difference was, Draco was on the wrong side. With a jolt, Draco caught himself before he could finish the thought in his head, as if his family around him could hear his thoughts. And what an unexpected thought at that. Another one followed. _He's innocent. That boy is innocent, and doesn't deserve this. None of them do._ Refusing to look at Granger, Malfoy mumbled out the lie. He couldn't tell if it was Harry or not. Draco hoped that his aunt Bellatrix wouldn't see through him.

Though he did half expect to hear the words _Avada Kedavra_ being shot at him from behind. Family or not, Bellatrix was painfully loyal to the Dark Lord. She would see his interference as a threat. A threat that needed to be taken out. In a situation like this, Draco wasn't sure where his own father's loyalty would fall. He just hoped that he himself would be killed long before his mother would try to intervene.

When she seemed to believe him, Draco let out a breath. But the worst wasn't over. It was yet to come. And come it did, as he watched Hermione's chest being carved into, with Bellatrix's wand; a gleam of insanity lighting up the death eater's eyes as she watched the pain and fear she was inflicting. Hermione's screams filled his head. He wanted to rip his aunt off the innocent girl. But he couldn't. Why? He was afraid. A coward. Too afraid to save the girl who had been a friend to him during a time when he seemed to have none. Too cowardly to stand against evil, for fear of the safety of his family.

_Breathe, Hermione. Please. Just breathe and do not answer anything,_ he'd urged, wishing that he could somehow take some of the pain away. Potter and Weasley had come to the rescue then. When Potter disarmed Draco, he hadn't given much of a fight. Hadn't wanted to. The three of them had to get out. They just _had to._ Even so, Draco eye's still sought the witch's brown eyes, never wanting to let her out of his sight again. What he saw in them had frightened him. _Emptiness._

He was brought out of the painful memory by a sniffling nearby. He looked up into the same brown eyes, full of trepidation. Tears streamed silently down her face, and she looked embaressed; she obviously hadn't seen him when she walked over. Draco couldn't blame her. This sight that lay before them was enough to make anyone blind to everything else.

Draco tensed, waiting for her to move. When she didn't, he relaxed slightly. There were so many things he'd wanted to say then. He wanted to run to her and beg her forgiveness. Ask if she was alright. Stay by her side until she forced him away. Sadly, he realized, she felt _safe. She felt like home_. Not the Manor, which had been thoroughly corrupted during the war. Not Hogwarts-though it had always been more of a home to him than the Manor ever was-which had seen the worst of the war. But the _feeling_ of home. Of security. And oddly enough, of comfort.

She opened her mouth as if to say something. But then thought better of it, and was suddenly gone. She'd been the last real friend he had. And that's when Draco had felt it. The loss and loneliness. The death all around him suddenly overcame him and Draco fell to his knees as sobs ravaged his body.


	2. Hermione

_There's so much blood…so much._ Looking back, that's what Hermione remembers the most about Hogwarts after the battle. That and the noise. Or at least, lack thereof. Voldemort had finally met his match in her best friend. He was gone, dead, never to be seen ever again. And yet, looking around, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if they had really won. _Of course they had,_ she snapped at herself. _The most evil wizard in all history was gone. He was never going to hurt people anymore. Muggle-borns would be safe…she would be safe._

After the battle, Hermione had run to make sure her best friends were still alive. She'd found Harry sitting on a small hill near the back of the school. His face told her he was best left alone at the moment. So she'd gone and looked for Ron. He'd been helping Luna Lovegood tend to the injuries of a very pale-faced Dean Thomas. Knowing that the two had the situation under control, Hermione went to look for injured people to tend to.

_But there was so much blood._ Hermione was walking along the outskirts of the school grounds, surveying the damage. Suddenly, it was all too much for the young witch. She'd had enough of all the damage and loss that Voldemort had caused. _It's not fair,_ she thought. _These people were innocent. They didn't have to lose their lives._ She'd been deep in her thoughts when she stumbled upon a certain blond.

Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the battle field. His posture rigid, tense. Hermione made to turn around before he got a chance to see her, but he looked up. She'd meant to turn away anyway, and keep going. She didn't know what was running through his mind. She didn't want to. She didn't know anything about Draco Malfoy. Sure, he was an incorrigible, insolent, bigoted Slytherin. But he had showed his true colors when it mattered most. What Hermione saw in Draco's eyes mirrored what she felt inside. For some reason, she stood rooted to the ground in front of him.

She watched as his eyebrows shot up in surprise at her appearance. How he seemed to guard himself against some kind of attack from her. Verbal or magical. A few seconds passed and he seemed to relax a bit. He seemed to wait for her to say something. Hermione opened her mouth to say_...what? What would she say? Thank you for not identifying Harry back in your mansion? Thank you for helping us win? Thank you for…being good? But was he good?_

Hermione looked at the boy she had spoken to many times during her sixth year at Hogwarts. An unexpected sort-of friendship had grown between the two back then. But then the war had come and they had stood at two different ends of it. The brunette opened her mouth to say something. But when she realized that there was nothing left to say, she turned around and walked quickly away.

"Malfoy survived," she didn't know why she said it. Or why it even mattered. But she'd said it, and the words hung in the air. Hermione had found herself back with Harry. She stood a few feet in front of him; watching as he stared at the grounds at his feet. Unlike Malfoy, Harry seemed to cave in on himself. He had just killed the most evil wizard to ever walk the planet. He had just won the war. But he looked as if he had lost himself in the process.

She could see recognition register in her best friend's eyes. As if he were waking up out of his trance. Harry looked up at her, his brows furrowed in confusion. As if he were trying to place her. _Your best friend, Harry _she urged, inside her head. _I'm your best friend and I love you and I know that you feel alone right now but I'm right here. I care about you. And I can't bear to watch you in pain. _She wanted to take away all of his pain. Erase the past 7 years of loss from his memory. But with the bad memories, there were good ones.

Everyone had suffered in that war. But it was Harry who no doubt felt all the deaths were somehow his fault. Hermione walked the last few steps between them and stood next to him. She cautiously put her hand on his shoulder, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. Suddenly, Harry's arms were around Hermione. She could feel his hands shaking as they wrapped around her. He buried his head in her shoulder. The brunette tensed when she felt his whole body start to shake. When she realized that he was crying, her arms wound around him.

Hermione had always been an emotional crier. When she was extremely mad, happy, excited, or stressed, she cried. A feat that annoyed her to no ends. She didn't know which emotion she felt at the moment. But she gave in and the sounds of her sobs mixed with the strangled cries of her best friend.


	3. Lateness and Surprises

…**5 years later…**

Hermione Granger was late. Though Hermione Granger was never late. You could ask anyone at the Ministry. Really, ask anyone. They would tell you that the intelligent witch was always up early, one of the first to enter the Ministry during the morning. That she was also usually one of the last to leave at night. Hermione Granger always had ideas to run by others, papers to fill out, people to fill in about the newest developments and, well, magical creatures to save. She was a busy witch, and the day just never seemed to have enough hours in it for her to finish everything she needed to. So she cheated a bit, and just came in early.

And why not? She had no other commitments that were as demanding as her work. She was single-yes, yes. She'd been with that Weasley boy for a bit. No. Was it Potter? No, no, I'm pretty sure she had been with the Weasley lad. But that obviously hadn't worked out-and lived by herself. Ms. Granger still had dinner with her parents at least once a month, breakfast at the Burrow every couple of weeks, and had lunch with her best friends usually once a week. She also was an avid activist outside of work, and was working on her own book on the history of muggle borns-change was occurring, and she hoped to spur it on. So as you can probably tell, the witch was a busy one. So she was always moving and above all, _on time._

Just not…today.

The nightmares had come back. It had been a good couple weeks since they started up again. The war. Sometimes she dreamt they had never won, that she'd been forced to watch as her best friend was killed in his battle with Lord Voldemort, that Ron had never found his way back to them when they were hunting horcruxes, and had instead been captured. Sometimes she dreamt that she was killed in battle, or watched helplessly as one of her friends was killed. Sometimes she was still lying underneath Bellatrix LeStrange, screaming out in pain as her skin was carved mercilessly into. Even when she awoke-lurching up in cold sweats in the middle of the night-she could still smell the scent of her own blood.

And sometimes this all happened repeatedly. She would calm herself down and tell her pounding heart that she was safe, only to fall into another fit of sleep. Last night had been one of those nights. She'd set her alarm for 5:45 am. But had finally settled into dreamless sleep around 4 am, and hadn't been able to roll out of bed till 8 am. To say the small brunette was flustered, was a bit of an understatement.

Hermione ran toward her department on the 5th floor of the Ministry of Magic, hair flying wildly around her, hand clutching to her satchel full of paperwork, and arms full of loads of other paperwork. There seemed to be quite a buzz in the Ministry today, as people walked a bit slower and talked a bit more excitedly. Hermione caught a bit of conversation here and there as she politely tried to shove passed those in her way.

"Now who in the name of Merlin approved of this?!-"

"I wonder if they'll even let him in."

"Oh yes, I heard he's already been pre-approved. Smart lad and all."

"-don't think he has any right being within a block of this-"

"What a disgrace!"

"Well, he is kind of…handsome, don't ya think?"

"Former death-"

"This oughtta be good…"

Hermione hadn't even noticed two people standing outside of her office as she plowed passed them, threw her door open and dumped her arms' contents onto her desk. The brunette leaned a hip on her desk, back turned to her door as she caught her breath. There was a knock.

"Miss Granger? I'm sorry to interrupt you. It's just that I really need a favour." Hermione turned to see a meek looking Pavolti Kerthob standing at her door. A new intern in her department.

"Pavolti! Morning! And how many times have I asked you to call me Hermione?" she smiled.

"So sorry Miss Granger. Will do! But I have a quick favor to ask of you. You see, I was already late to a meeting when the Minister of Magic himself handed over this gentleman to me-seems he too was late for something- asking me to escort him to Mr. Potter's office. I'm terribly late now, and the minister asked that this gentleman be _escorted_ there. And I was going to ask Mr. McKay, but now you're here and I was wonder-"

"No worries, Pavolti! Go ahead to your meeting. I'll escort him." Hermione cut him off.

With a thankful nod at her, the young redheaded intern straightened his tie, turned to nod at the 'gentleman' that needed escorting –and was standing next to the doorway, blocking Hermione's view of him-and sped off to the meeting he was already late to.

"Give me one second, and then we'll go!" Hermione shouted out to the guest that needed to be escorted to her best friend's office. She quickly grabbed her wand out of her satchel, amusedly surmising on the fact that everyone seemed to be running late to_ something _today, and walked out of her office, closing the door behind her.

Hermione Granger looked up to see someone she hadn't seen in almost 5 years. Tall, pale hair, and unreadable eyes with his trademark smirk. In front of her stood Draco Malfoy.

"Miss Granger, " he greeted, echoing Pavolti's earlier greeting.

To say that Hermione Granger was speechless, was a bit of an understatement.


	4. Back to the Past

_She hadn't known when it had happened, exactly. She just knew that she had wanted to spend more and more time with him. Then one day it hit her; _she like-liked Ronald Weasley.

_ At first it was a shock. She had purposely spent less time around him and Harry. But then it seemed to make sense. They'd known each other since they were little. They were quite close friends. She cared about him, and he did her. Yes, they were polar opposites when it came to everything. But you know what they say, opposites attract._

_ Then came Lavender Brown. She had swooped in and strangled Ron with her fervent kisses and wild long locks. Which he didn't seem to mind at all. After all, nothing had changed on his side toward Hermione. She was still just their know-it-all best friend; someone good to have around in case they got into trouble._

_ No, that wasn't true, and she knew it. Ron and Harry cared for her. It just seemed they were all drifting apart a bit. Sure, Harry had been there to comfort Hermione the night of Gryffindor's first win after Ron and Lavender left, snogging. But Hermione knew that Harry had feelings for Ginny and was therefore in the same metaphorical boat as she. So she felt bad about feeling bad around him._

_ Lately, Hermione had taken to seeking refuge in the west wing of the school. It was an unwritten rule that they weren't allowed up there-and why go there anyway, there was nothing there-which would make it easier for Hermione to talk her way out of the situation if she got caught._

_ She'd been sitting in a small alcove of the west wing, homework laying forgotten on her lap, staring out at the breathtaking view of the early morning grounds through the large window when someone turned the corner and happened across her._

_ Hermione looked up into the surprised grey eyes of the self-proclaimed Slytherin prince. His shaggy appearance drew her eyes. Usually, he was well put together; not a hair out of place, not a care in the world. Of course, other than making his presence and prejudices known. Now, he was slightly jittery, slightly unnerved at her unexpected presence. His hair was mildly ruffled, skin a sallow complexion, with bags under his eyes. He ran a hand self-consciously through his hair._

_ She braced herself for a sneer and some sort of name-calling. But it never came._

_ "What are you doing here?" he asked, surprise colouring his usually demeaning tone._

_ "Homework." she answered quickly._

_ "Why aren't you being a know-it-all to Potty and Weasel?"_

_ "Why aren't you bragging to innocent bystanders about your mediocre accomplishments?"_

_ They glared at each other, hate radiating off of both students. Annoyed, Hermione quickly gathered her belongings and was gone with a huff and small mutterings of "…little prat, thinks he can… most intolerable person I've ever…don't want to be around…" Proud to have seemingly won, Draco took a seat right where the witch had just been sitting. _

_ Once he was sure he was alone in the hall, the blond let his defenses drop. His face lapsed into one of deep thought and worry. At first, he'd been excited to receive his mission from the Dark Lord. He'd been excited that the chance to prove himself had just waltzed right into his lap._

_ Then came the stress of fixing the bloody cabinet; which had proven harder than expected. There were moments where he sat in a frustrated heap in front of the piece of furniture brooding over the fact that there wasn't a single bloody book on it, in the library. It was in these moments that The Thoughts ambushed him._

Why was the death of one of the greatest wizards-he may not have particularly liked Dumbledore, but he knew great power when he saw it-being left to a 6th year student? If his father was such a high and mighty pure-blood, why did he cower in fear of a half-blood? Never mind it was Lord seemed that everything his father had done-and dragged Draco and his mother into-had only ended up getting screwing them over in the end.

_Needless to say, the young wizard was starting to doubt his origins…_

That year, Hermione had taken to spending time with her other friends more-when she was avoiding McLaggen's over the top advances-but spending time with Ginny reminded her of Harry's feelings for the redhead, which reminded Hermione of her own feelings for another redhead. She'd spent more time with Neville and Luna, but knew there was a budding romance between them-so she often felt third-wheelish. Hermione also didn't share a lot of the same interests that the other girls her age had. Which left her alone, for the most part.

This was perfectly okay, with her. the witch was used to spending her evenings curled up with a good book. Though increasingly as of late, those 'good books' were all about dark magic. Even then, she'd known a war was coming soon. She'd known that Harry would have to face Voldemort, and Hermione was determined to be there for her best friend, at all costs. Which meant knowing about what they were going up against. Needless to say, she'd become quite adequate at sneaking into the restricted section.

The day after her unexpected meeting with a certain blond Slytherin in the west wing of the school, Hermione had been roaming the vast Hogwarts library, returning some old books and looking for new ones. She had just left dinner early, because of the unsightliness of Lavender Brown curled around a redheaded friend of hers, who had been shoveling any food within a 2 foot perimeter, into his mouth.

Everyone was still in the Grand Hall for dinner, so Hermione was planning on having atleast another half hour alone with the library. Seriously, who would skip dinner to hang out in the library? Hermione turned into another aisle, her head craned upwards to catch the titles of the books on the higher shelves…and walked into Malfoy.

Of course, she didn't know it was him when her bump almost sent him to the floor.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so-" stone cold grey eyes met warm brown eyes, and Hermione stopped mid-sentence.

"Just my luck, running into _you_ twice in 24 hours." He muttered, mouth turned down in disdain.

"We go to the same school, genius."

"Out of class!" he snapped. She rolled her eyes; he was obviously on edge.

"Well isn't a certain petulant little wizard _especially_ cranky today? Did Daddy not buy you the lastest-whatever material item it is you get off on?"

This was surprisingly met with a smirk. Malfoy was slightly taken aback that the brainy mudblood had it in her to even refer to such a thing.

"No, no. I don't need _items_ for that. I've got a good couple of housemates that'll help out, here and there." She stepped back in disgust. He took a step forward, encouraged. "Though I have to say, maybe you should look into one of those material items. I know your experience with the opposite sex starts and ends with Potty and Weasel, and Salazar knows they barely count as members."

She was quiet. He noticed her chest rising and falling, faster. She was fuming. The blond bit back a victorious smile. But then felt the hostility rolling off of her in wave, and nonchalantly stepped back. He wanted to be out of range in case she tried to punch him again. Merlin knew it was the only time he'd been punched-other than wrestling with friends as a young boy-and he didn't plan on letting it happen again.

Seeming to sense the direction of his thoughts, Hermione's expression grew lighter. She gave him a small proud smile, then abruptly turned and continued to walk down the aisle in search of books. Draco glared at her retreating back for a moment, then turned back to the big book in his hands. After scanning the contents of the book, he shoved it back onto the shelf, frustrated. He picked out another promising looking book and skimmed through it.

So far, Draco had only found two books that only mentioned vanishing cabinets. Since most spells didn't work in the library-due to a idiotic student practicing a fire spell, as they read instructions on how to do so, from a book who ended up lighting half of the library on fire-Draco was doomed to continue to blindly search in hopes of finding a helpful book. He didn't want to risk asking the librarian for help. Asking his own friends was certainly out of the question-he'd been rather closed off and secretive around them, lately.

_He could ask the mudblood,_ he mused, spotting sight of the witch sneaking into the restricted section. He watched in slight awe, as she bypassed the enchantments put there to keep her kind out. Shaking his head, Draco shivered at the thought of asking a mudblood for help. He'd sooner become a Muggle, himself, than ask someone of that filthy lot.

With sudden determination, Malfoy stormed out of the library and made his way to the Room of Requirement. He sat in the Room of Hidden Things for the next hour, casting spell after spell to fix the stupid cabinet. But there were enchantments on it, protecting it from anything he cast. He didn't know if the enchantments were from the makers, to protect the cabinet, or if they'd been put by someone else to keep people like Draco out. The hour in the room had crawled by, and Draco was frustrated and on end. Grabbing his cloak, he started to make his way out of the room.

Suddenly filled with scorn, he spun around and yelled the first spell he could think of. "Incendio!" Surprised that he had just lost control of himself, Draco looked at the cabinet wearily, curious as to what shape it would now be in. He watched the flames shooting out of his wand, engulfing the cabinet balefully. _Had he just ruined the cabinet, his whole mission?_

The flames seemed to jump over to a nearby table, catching there, too. "Aguamenti!" Draco quickly put them out. When the cabinet and table were thoroughly drenched, he flung his cloak on, and stocked off. He must never lose control of himself like that, again. _Imagine what a scene it would have made if the entire Room of Hidden Things had went up in flames like that,_ he mused on his way out.

Despondently, he milled around the castle; dodging people around various corners. It was getting late, and he shouldn't still be wandering the halls. But Draco just couldn't bring himself to go back to his dorm, yet. Back to the pitiful world of his naiive housemates. They didn't know what was going on, right under their noses. Draco didn't want to hear about the latest scandals, or pranks that were being pulled. Even the thought of hearing about Potty's latest blunder didn't cheer him up. He was no longer just a Slytherin. Draco Malfoy was now a Death Eater. Not officially, of course. He just had this one mission to not screw up on, and then he was free.

The blond wizard looked up to find himself in an alcove by a window. It seemed he had found himself back in the west wing. Sighing, he sat down and stared out at the peaceful school grounds. The night was surprisingly bright; the moon shone down on everything. He watched the Whomping Willow swipe at an unsuspecting bird flying peacefully by, and snorted. Disrupter of peace, that's what that nasty tree was.

He tensed when he realized a parallel could be drawn between the tree and himself, in this way. After all wouldn't he be the one to let Death Eaters in, in a couple of months? Startled by his realization, Draco continued to stare out at the night. He shivered and pulled his cloak tighter around his thin frame. It was really getting late now. He couldn't risk getting caught. He would go back to his dorm in a bit…

Footsteps startled the young wizard out of his sleep, causing him to knock his head on the wall behind him. "Ouch!" he whispered harshly, rubbing the sore spot. He tensed as the muffled footsteps grew closer. Someone was obviously trying to be quiet. Though failing horribly. Draco looked at his surroundings. He couldn't move out of the alcove without appearing presumably within the person's line of sight. Should he stun the person and run? Not a good idea. An older student could rebound with something worse. If it were a teacher, it was just a plain stupid idea.

_Think logically, Draco. Stop being such a death eater._ This voice in his head seemed to snap him to attention. Okay. Well. He could just wait for them to pass. If he was caught, he would tell the truth.

Her hair turned the corner before she did. Hermione Granger walked toward him, shoving what looked suspiciously like a cloak in her bag. She had a book with her. _Merlin, the girl really had no better things to do than read?_ He snorted as he thought about the possibility of having stunned her…man, how had he passed up a chance at _that?!_ She seemed to wake up at this.

She wore blue pajama bottoms and a shirt Draco couldn't see, under her school robes. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold of the castle, her eyes were open and alert; strange for this time of night. She made a small "eep" at the sight of Draco sitting there. _Now we're even,_ he thought. _We've both startled each other just by sitting in a damn alcove._ She defensively pulled her wand out, then seemed to realize it was Draco.

Blowing the hair rather unattractively out of her face, Hermione stared at him accusingly. Not one to be outdone, Draco merely stared back. The light of the moon streamed in behind Draco, illuminating his pale hair, but thrusting his features into shadow. Though Hermione could make out the cold but weary eyes staring daggers at her. The moonlight fell lightly across her face, highlighting her features. Her hair was a riotous mess, all branching out of the bun she tried to tame it into. They stayed like that for what seemed like eternity before she broke eye contact.

"Malfoy. Please leave."

"You're telling me to leave? If anything, I have more right to be here than you, you little mud-" her voice sliced through him like glass.

"Malfoy." He sneered at her in reply. "Please, just…I'm just tired, okay?" The word mudblood died on his tongue.

Sure, he'd been staring at her this whole time. But it seemed as though he only just _saw_ her. He looked at her with unprejudiced eyes, if only for a moment. Tired and weary, would be the first words to come to mind, in describing the girl in front of him. Her skin had lots its usual glow-_how the hell did he know it glowed, usually?!_-her eyes were alert, but the skin around them was dark with bags from lack of sleep. She looked like someone who had been alone a lot, lately. Draco knew this mostly because he saw this reflected in her eyes. It was the same look he caught in his own eyes, sometimes. He could tell that she was at a point where she had been so lonely that even when she said go away, the witch meant stay.

He hated to admit it, but Hermione Granger seemed to be feeling the same things that he himself was going through. The frustration, isolation from friends, the loneliness. He wondered if she ever lost hope. Never. Hermione Granger was if anything, a shining beacon of hope amidst burnouts, lost souls, and hopeless cases, such as himself. Even though it hadn't quite been winter yet, the castle was cold, and she certainly hadn't dressed for the climate. She twitched nervously under his gaze, as if realizing the way he was observing her.

Draco snapped out of his trance. He got up, and shoved passed her. In one swift movement, his own cloak was off his shoulders and draped around hers. She let out a small "oh" in surprise. He stopped, having reached the edge of the alcove and turned to leave when her unusually small voice stopped him.

"Filch has been wandering these corridors. He'd be closer to the east wing by now. I ran into the Bloody Baron on my way here. I suggest making a left at the end of the hall, to avoid him."

Draco nodded his understanding, and walked quickly away. A shiver ran through him, and he walked quicker, still. Did he trust Hermione? No. Did he trust her enough to take her advice? Draco didn't let himself answer this. He merely turned left at the end of the hall, and disappeared into the night.


End file.
